Bloodstream
by loudmouthangela
Summary: Written interpretation of the season 1 finale, trying to get into Damon's head. Damon wasn't used to feeling things like this. It wasn't in his nature to be pinned like this, looking feebly around the space where he knew she stood. All he could hear in the back of his head was Isabel. "Because he's in love with you."


"What are you doing here?"

He closed the door quietly. The sound of her voice cut the night air like a knife. Feeling her presence, he swung his gaze around as he said "A failed and feeble attempt of doing the right thing." Finally, he looked at her, hiding his wince with a crooked smile.

"Which was…?"

"It's not important."

He tried to turn it off. He took a few steps toward her and did the gentlemanly thing. "Let me take these in for you." Elena lifted the clothes slightly and he had an excuse to look away again. He was grateful to turn away; he placed the dress carefully, delicately, on the wood porch swing. For a moment, there was just the rustle of silk and bags.

"Thank you."

Damon wasn't used to feeling things like this. It wasn't in his nature to be pinned like this, looking feebly around the space where he knew she stood. All he could hear in the back of his head was Isabel.

_"Because he's in love with you."_

He took a deep breath, realized he was actually twisting the ring around his finger. Still couldn't look at her. "You know, I came to this town wanting to destroy it. Tonight, I found myself wanting to protect it."

Like a magnet, his eyes were drawn into hers. He was answering his own question before he even asked it.

"How does _that_ happen?"

She looked away, took a breath to answer.

He cut her off: "I'm not a hero, Elena. I don't want to do 'good.' It's not…_in_ me." Damon looked away and widened his eyes comically. He was falling back into his comfortable self.

Elena watched him struggle, could feel what he was avoiding. "Maybe it is," she said, in that calm, insightful voice that always managed to find the truth in his smoke and mirrors.

"No," Damon said slowly, playing the bad-guy part to a T. "That's reserved for my brother. And for you. And Bonnie. Even though she has a reason to hate me, still helped Stephen save me."

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Elena sighed, waiting.

"Because she did it for you," Damon answered automatically. "Which means that somewhere along the way..." He stepped closer to her, felt the power dynamic shift as she became a little uncomfortable, a little more aware of his physical size and the very deliberate invasion of space. "…you decided that I was worth saving. And I wanted to...thank you. For that."

Like a bad habit, Damon felt the human emotions slipping back. Gratitude, genuine care and attraction, like a riptide wave in the night.

Elena missed a beat and tried to make up for it by looking him dead in the eye. "You're welcome."

He searched in her gaze, trying to see if she had the answer for how he was feeling. Trying to see if she understood it any better than he did.

Then he turned it off.

Damon leaned in and pressed a kiss against her cheek. It was slow, intimate, and polite but feeling. He cared for her—this was okay. This was acceptable.

And then something changed when he pulled away.

His lips peeled off her skin and it felt wrong, strange…he looked back in her eyes for help and she stared back at him, searching. He looked at her lips. The air shifted again, it was heavy again and his gut was twisted in a knot, he was off-balance and he just leaned…

Their skin touched lightly, burning like an unanswered question. Everything was rushing in his ears, he lingered as her lips closed around his. Just as he pulled slightly away, she leaned up with surprising passion. There was no thinking—he threw himself entirely into feeling and pressed his hands against the sides of her head, understanding the weight of her, feeling her smooth hair and kissing her, and feeling,

The lock clicked, the door swung open and a beam of light fell on the two. Damon instinctively turned away, and everything came rushing back in a cold rush of air in his ears and eyes and mouth.

Stephan.


End file.
